


Of flowers, coffee and plum tarts

by LadyTurwaithiel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bad Cooking, Botany, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Neighbors, Romance, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-11 04:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7875325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTurwaithiel/pseuds/LadyTurwaithiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chloe is studying for her M.Sc. degree in Bucharest, she’s broke, her apartment is practically a ruin and she barely speaks Romanian. On the bright side, her neighbor’s hot. Takes place before and during Civil War. Bucky/OC</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hello Bucharest!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!! –waves maniacally–  
> Welcome to my first uploaded fanfic ever! I’m kinda nervous, to be honest. I’ve been writing for many years, but this is the first time I decided to upload a fanfic! Also, since English is not my native language, you will probably stumble into some grammatical and spelling mistakes, though I try hard to avoid them.  
> So, about the story: I will try to make it a relatively light hearted one. There shall be humor, fluff, some angst here and there for good measure, and though “romance” is in the tag, this is mainly a story about friendship, and the romance aspect will be a really gradual thing.  
> I just really wanted to give Bucky some peace and quiet, you know? Poor guy can barely catch a break.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this, because I certainly enjoyed writing it! I will try to update once a month.  
> XoXo,  
> Lady Turwaithiel  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs

_“How’s the apartment sweetie?”_  


Chloe smiled brightly at her mother’s blurry Skype image.  


“It’s an absolute mess!” she exclaimed excitedly.  


Her mom groaned; extra grumpy from having just woken up and not drank coffee yet.  


_“Can you stop being so damn cheerful? It gets on my nerves!”_

“Aren’t you the one who always said I should look on the bright side?”  


_“You have an entire ocean between you and your family, you’re in a foreign country where they talk language you can barely form a sentence in, you rented a shitty apartment in a shitty neighborhood and you have no roommates! What part of this is exactly good?”_

“Well first things first, I have an entire ocean between me and my family…”  


_“Chloe!”_

“Oh, you know I’m kidding! I already miss you guys.”  


_“We will probably miss you more. I already have my hands full with your brother. He got into a fight with Madison two hours after you left.”_

Chloe laughed.  


“Well, good luck with that ma!”  


_“Now you’re just being mean. And don’t think I’ll let you get away without telling me what’s up with the apartment.”_

Chloe stuck her tongue out to her mom.  


“Well, it’s currently dirty but that will be fixed soon, the floorboards creak like mad, the plaster in the bathroom is cracked and falling, the kitchen is probably 50 years old, the pipes make weird sounds and the crown jewel: the faucet spits out brown water for around a minute after you get it running.”  


Aurelia Paylor pinched the bridge of her nose in absolute irritation.  


_“Wipe that smile off your face; you know how against this I was. I understand wanting to be independent, I encourage it, but-”_

“Yes mom, I know, you wanted me to stay in America or let David help me rent a better place, I know; I don’t _care_. If David wants to fund his siblings, he has two underage ones that have studies ahead of them. I worked my butt of to be able to support my own weight, and I am proud of it. It’s my apartment and I pay for it on my own and if I don’t mind that it’s old, it shouldn’t bother you either, okay?”  


Her mom sighed.  


“Mom, please, can be drop this?”  


_“Fine, but if anything happens I swear to God I’m coming all the way to Bucharest and dragging you back home!”_

“I’m shaking.”  


_“Chloe Marie Paylor! Show some respect to your mother!”_

“Mom no offence, but I’ve not been being afraid of you since I was like 5.”  


_“Now you’re just hurting my feelings.”_

Chloe snorted. Her mom just let out an exasperated breath  


_“So is there anything good about that hellhole?”_

“Hey don’t talk like that about my palace! If you want to know, it’s spacious and it has a lots of light so yeay for my plants, the bed and bathtub are big and I think once I clean up and put some green in here it will look nice! And I have it all on my own. Bonus point. Having no roommate is the best.”  


_“It’s dangerous.”_

“Remember Sarah?”  


_“Oh come on she was one roommate, who else was more trouble than help?”_

“Paul. Andrea.”  


_“What did poor Andrea ever do?”_

“She destroyed like half of my orchids?”  


_“By accident.”_

“Still. A true flora assassin, that girl.”  


Her mom giggled.  


_“Are you at least relatively high up the building?”_

“Oh, that... That’s another problem.”  


_“Please tell me you are not on floor level.”_

“Nope, I’m on the 9th floor.”  


_“That’s good!”_

“There’s not elevator.”  


Her mom stared at her and then broke down in hysterical laughter.  


_“Oh, thank you karma!”_

“It’s not funny mom!”  


_“It’s hilarious and you know it! Well, on the bright side, you’ll finally get some exercise!”_

“Yeah that’s what I tell myself too. It’s carrying stuff up the stairs that gives me nightmares.”  


_“Well, you chose the place, so you asked for it.”_

“It looked better online!”  


_“The internet lies.”_

“Yep, the world is out to get naive innocent younglings like myself.”  


_“I have forgotten the last time you were naïve and innocent. Also I don’t think you count as a youngling anymore.”_

“My heart is forever stuck at 19.”  


_“Sure thing honey.”_

“Anyway, I’m gonna go now, I need to clean up, organize my stuff and then I’ll probably drop by the university, see how long it takes me to get there, get the program; you know the drill.”  


_“Okay, I have to get ready for work too. And wake up your siblings; heaven save me. Talk later! We love you!”_

“Me too! Tell Billy not to drive Madison up the wall.”  


_“Like that will be enough to stop him.”_

“Hey at least I try! Bye now!”  


_“Bye, take care!”_

“Will do! Love you!”  


_“Love you too!”_

Chloe pressed the red button on the screen of her rather old laptop and stretched her legs. She looked around her new apartment in slight despair, but soon enough got off of the extremely dusty couch and stretched her back.  


“Well, looking at you won’t make you any cleaner!” she mumbled to herself.  


She pulled her hair up, opened the cabinet and wielded her hoover and duster.  


“When all the world is a hopeless jumble…” she sang under her breath.  


Two hours and a half later, she looked at her work with pride; floor clear of dust and dirt, all cupboards and surfaces dusted, all plates washed and all clothes folded and placed in the closet, bedsheets changed and good to go, sofa and curtains having years of dust hoovered out of them.  


She smiled and headed to the little cabinet to get the mop and all things needed to clean the bathroom and kitchen. The mop was there alright, but all cleaners were quite absent.  


“Oh fuck me!” she exclaimed.  


She checked every cupboard and bathroom cabinet, but nope. Nothing.  


“All you need for cleaning is in the cabinet…” she mimicked her landlord’s voice under her breath.  


_I think I saw a mini market in the corner when the bus dropped my off._

With a sigh, she put on a hoodie, wore her shoes and out the door she went.  


_On to my mighty quest to find some bleach and Ajax!_

Truth be told, she was not even remotely angry; she was too excited to be. The apartment was old and perhaps a bit of a mess, but she didn’t mind; in fact she liked it. It was clear that the place had seen many dwellers and old places like that long storied behind them. They felt warmer, more hospitable.  


She loved her old, worn couch that god knows how many people had sat on, had seen movies and had slept and had fights and had cried and made love on. She loved the creaking floorboards that so many feet had walked and danced on and the kitchen that had seen good cooks, bad cooks, meals for two or groups for friends or an old woman’s simple dinner.  


She definitely did not love the stairs. But what can you do.  


She finally reached the ground floor, opened the door and walked out on the street. Looking around she found that at the left corner of the street there was indeed a mini market.  


She entered happily, greeting the clearly bored out of her mind cashier in broken Romanian.  


And then she faced her biggest challenge yet: she barely recognized any of the cleaning products. And the labels were in Romanian.  


“Oh great.”  


She turned back to the cashier and smiled as brightly as she could.  


“Scuze…”  


The girl raised her head. She was a pretty girl, petite, with small pouty mouth, big blue eyes and a blonde pixie cut. She looked like a fairy; but an intensely bored one at that.  


“Vorbesti engleza?”  


“Yes. Do you need help?” she answered in perfect English, albeit with a slightly thick accent.  


“Oh thank God!” Chloe sighed in relief “I need some cleaning products, but I can’t read the labels, could you please help me?”  


“Sure. What are you looking for?”  


“Some all-purpose-cleaner, bleach, oven cleaner, glass cleaner, toilet cleaner, generally all the basics.”  


“Okay…” the girl said and got up behind the cash register.  


“Are you the only one working?”  


“Unfortunately. The other girl got sick and the manager only shows up around afternoon.”  


“Not very nice…”  


“Nope!”  


Chloe followed her back to the cleaning section and paid attention as the girl showed her what was what.  


“Here for tourism?” the girl asked.  


“No, I’ll be staying for two years; for my M.Sc. degree.”  


“Oh? Which University?”  


“The University of Bucharest.”  


“Really? I go there too! What are you studying?”  


“Ethnology, Cultural Anthropology, and Folklore.”  


“In English, I suppose.”  


“Yeah!” Chloe laughed “My Romanian is not there yet. Your English are excellent by the way!”  


“Thank you!” the girl said “You’ll find that most people our age do speak rather fluently, though.”  


“That’s awesome. And a relief to be honest.”  


The girl nodded.  


“So what about you? I mean, what are you studying?”  


“Psychology, final post-graduate year.” said the girl and surprised Chloe with a proud smile.  


“That sounds great!” she smiled back.  


“It is. I love it.”  


Now that she had warmed up to her, Chloe decided she liked the girl. With her pixie cut, dimples and no-shit attitude, she reminded her of her best friend, Sophie.  


By this point, they had gone back, the girl putting all the things on the cash register.  


“Do you need anything else?”  


Chloe paused. She decided she needed to introduce herself to her neighbors; establish a spirit of good will.  


“Ingredients for cookies.”  


The girl nodded and brought everything needed.  


“Thank you.” Chloe said as the girl started scanning her stuff.  


“If you don’t mind me asking, how come you came here for studies?”  


“Scholarship. Not expensive life-style.”  


“Yep, I see.” she nodded.  


At that point a new customer entered the shop, and Chloe hurriedly paid in order to let the girl do her job.  


"Thank you so much for the help!”  


“No problem. Enjoy Bucharest!”  


“Oh I intend to!”  


The client cleared his throat behind them.  


“Oh sorry! Again, thank you so much!”  


“My pleasure. See you at the University!”  


“Sure thing!” she smiled brightly “I’m Chloe, by the way!”  


“My name’s Annika.” she smiled and narrowed her eyes at the sound behind her “If this old man keeps clearing his throat I will shove a pack of pastilles down that thing.”  


Chloe laughed and waived at her as she left; humming a song as she walked down the sidewalk and entering her building.  


_First day and I already made an acquaintance. Things are looking up!_

Then she saw those accursed stairs.  


Somewhere around the fifth floor she stopped to catch her breath, regretting the past year when she chose Netflix over gym.  


“You can do it girl!” she said to herself and started once more the perilous path of the staircase.  


Finally, huffing and cursing, see reached her floor and dropped her bags in front of her door as she searched her pockets for her keys.  


The sound of a door opening and closing came from behind her and she turned to see the back of a man locking the door of the apartment diagonally next to her own.  


_Oh, a neighbor! I should make a good first impression!_

The man locked the door and started to turn around as she straitened her body.  


“Bună ziua!” she said with a bright smile.  


The man turned around and looked at her.  


_Holy. Fucking. Shit._

He seemed to be in his late 20s to early 30s; he was tall and very, very fit. Long dark brown hair, steel blue eyes; 5-o’clock shadow and full lips.  


She blinked away her surprise and swallowed nervously as the by far best looking guy she had ever laid eyes upon gave her a scrutinizing look from head to toe; making her cheeks light up red.  


_Oh God I look like a mess. Am I wearing the dirty sweatpants? I’m wearing the dirty sweatpants. Oh for fucks sake stop staring at me, I look horrid!_

Finally, after an agonizing second of complete silence from him, her new neighbor nodded politely.  


“Bună ziua.”  


He turned and headed towards the stairs and Chloe entered her apartment and shut the door, dumped her stuff on the floor and look over her new home with a dazed look.  


_I am never, ever, leaving the house with dirty sweatpants again._

Then she headed straight for the laptop; cleaning and university be damned. Her apartment had just gotten a glorious upgrade, and her friend Sophie was about to be excitedly screamed at.  


***  


Song of the chapter:  
Over The Rainbow –Ella Fitzgerald


	2. Somehow Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's current lifestyle includes learning, taking a trips down memory lane, drinking tea and being violently suspicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thank you all so much for the kudos and bookmarks!
> 
> I was worried that people might dislike the amount of dialogue between non-central characters. This chapter is on the same vibe but it will be more description heavy, so I apologize in advance. I generally try not to do this, but since this one is a Bucky chapter it was almost impossible to avoid inner monologue.
> 
> This is actually the chapter I am most nervous about, because if I can't get Bucky right, the whole thing will sink. I hope you like my interpretation of him.
> 
> Finally, I promise this is the last introductory chapter; I swear stuff starts happening by the next one!
> 
> XoXo,
> 
> Lady Turwaithiel
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs.

Bucky Barnes was quite pleased with his current life.

It was not perfect, but in the end, he was the happiest he had been in a while: somehow, Bucharest had provided him with some kind of peace and although he had originally planned to change locations every two months, he was already closing in his fourth one here; and was not planning to leave unless he no other choice.

Sure, his apartment was in a building about to fall apart and he didn't own a bed. But his mattress was comfortable enough and he had a functioning kitchen and bathroom. That was all the luxury he required. Yes, he had to cover his windows for safety; but it was the kind neighborhood where people didn't ask many questions and knew when to turn a blind eye: on his building alone lived a drug dealer, five junkies and quite a few gang members. The first floor functioned as the living and working quarters of a madam and her girls. The rest of the residents seemed to be either impoverished, old or into some kind of illegal activity. No one paid him any mind; besides the ladies of the first floor, who smiled at him when he passed them by.

When that happened, he always clenched his jaw and walked away; but it wasn't the girls themselves that upset him. It was the voice in the back of his mind that told him that Bucky Barnes would have smiled back. Memories of laughter and dancing and endless flirting would come to him from time to time and he would write them down on his notebook, along with any names he could remember.

 _Lottie, Betty, Silvia, Mary. A girl with red hair._

They were all probably dead by now, or extremely old. They had met other guys and danced with them and they got married and had kids and grandkids. All the things he could have done, perhaps with one of them, but didn't get to.

 _Things I will never get to do._

Yes, girls made Bucky Barnes really sad.

But there were things that made him happy, too.

Working made him happy. He took whatever job he could find: fixed things, carried stuff; mainly manual work. It didn't pay much but it was enough for him to make it through. He now realized he should have taken money when he destroyed Ideal Federal Savings Bank, but at the time he did not have enough clarity of mind.

But he didn't lead a luxurious life-style anyway, so he was glad to help people and make what he could out of that. It was a pleasant change.

What really made him enjoy his new life though was learning. About this era, about himself.

Food made him happy; rediscovering the tastes he liked. He learned he loved fruit, that he preferred dark over milk chocolate, that he liked his coffee black with a spoonful of sugar. He hated cauliflower with a passion. He liked beer but preferred whiskey.

He learned that tastes were likely to trigger memories. So he tried as many things as he could. Later he would write down everything new he ate and weather he liked it or not.

He figured out quite soon that he knew how to cook; the memory wasn't there but somewhere in his mind the knowledge remained, and his hands worked almost of their own free will. He wrote down everything he made too.

He liked going to the movies; he usually couldn't afford it more than once a month but he always saved some money for it. He watched some TV too, when he went to the pub. He loved reading too; though he had not been much of a reader back in the day, not as far as he could remember. He currently owned three books; he had bought them all from a bookstore that was going out of business and was selling them very cheap. _The Diary of a Young Girl_ , _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ , which the owner of the shop told him was a must-read and _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_. That was his sister's favorite book when she was a kid.

It was the first think he had remembered about his sister, besides her vague existence. He knew her name was Rebecca, and his other siblings were Jack and Paul, but he had read all that in his biography at the museum. But when he saw the book he remembered. He remembered a little girl with brown hair and blue eyes, like himself, sitting on the floor with a book, that book and himself taking it from her hands and holding it up high where she couldn't reach it and told her he would give it back only if she paid him with a hug and a kiss. She had kicked him in the shin. Her name was Rebecca. But he called her Becky. Bucky and Becky, the Barnes siblings.

That had made him smile.

He remembered that the twins were always out to pick on her, but never wanted to play with her. They were rascals, those two. Not even Bucky had been safe from their pranks; the only person Jack and Paul ever feared was their mother.

They were dead now, he knew. He had searched. Both dead before their time. Paul had only been 25 when he got into a car accident. Jack died at Vietnam, when he was still 38.

But Becky was alive.

He had spent many nights wondering about her. If she knew about him. Did he have nieces and nephews? He must have. Had she told them about him as they were growing up? Uncle Bucky, who had died a hero. Did she know what he had done; what he had become? Did she forgive him? Was there somewhere in Brooklyn an old lady with eyes like his, wondering where her brother was? Would she even want to see him?

He didn't know. Part of him didn't want to know. He had thought of looking for her, but he didn't dare do it. How would she react if one day she opened the door and saw her brother there? Her brother who died 70 years ago, her brother who back, her brother who would look at her with the same face as the one she had said goodbye too, her brother who had held her book up and asked for a hug and a kiss, her brother who was a wanted killer. He couldn't do this to her, wouldn't risk endangering her. Not his Becky.

He also thought about the tombs. His parents' graves, his bothers' graves. His own empty one. He thought of poor Becky, leaving flowers to them all, all her dead brothers and her mom and dad.

Thoughts like these kept him sleepless at night.

But then again, he didn't _want_ to sleep. Sleep meant not being in control. Sleep meant memories he would rather keep buried; nightmares that woke him up screaming, that turned every shadow into an enemy, that left him curled in the dark corners of his room like a caged animal. If he was to be haunted by his memories, he would rather think of his sister and stay sleepless.

Sometimes, he thought of Steve too.

By now, he had remembered him. And he was worried about him. He had no doubts that he was looking for him; and not to kill him. Honorable fool that he was, Steve would want to save him, would want for the world to forgive him. The boy never learned when a fight was a lost cause.

Bucky didn't want to be forgiven, didn't think he _should_ be forgiven. It was not his fault, what he had become. But he still was who he was, had done what he had done.

Innocent people where dead because of him; why he had killed was of little importance.

They haunted him too at nights; the faces of everyone he had killed. He had made a point to remember them. Every single one.

He sickened himself. Sometimes memories would come and he would scream and break anything he found. A little boy. A woman who had begged him for mercy. Howard. He had killed Howard. His very reflection disgusted him; he wanted to rip that accursed arm off. He had returned to Ideal Federal Savings Bank and destroyed everything inside; yet he had let those men live. Sometimes he wanted to go find them, them and every single one of his makers and kill them; and if they were already dead, he wanted to burn down their graves.

But these kind of thoughts belonged to the monster they had made him.

He was Bucky.

He was the Winter Soldier.

He was both, and he needed to make peace with that, somehow.

Bucky enjoyed his nights least of everything.

But he thought he was as well as he could be.

He had food, a way to make a living, a roof above his head. Most importantly, he had his freedom. And, despite his better judgment, he had even a few people he could call friends. The lady at the market who always saved him fresh fruit, the old bartender in the seedy pub he frequented who told him stories and poured him his drink as soon as he walked in. The old lady who lived two floors below him.

None of these people seemed to suspect him. For all who asked, he was Sergiu Gheorghescu from Constanța, and since his Romanian was flawless, no one even questioned it. Generally he didn't face any trouble, since most people seemed to avoid him instinctively. There was something about him that seemed to say "this man is dangerous".

That morning had been a rare exception.

That particular day, he entered his apartment building late in the afternoon. Going up the stairs he heard the footsteps of someone going up in front of him, and soon enough an old lady carrying bags with groceries entered in his line of vision.

She turned to see who was coming; her face was old and withered, but it was clear that in her young age she would have been a beauty.

"Good evening, Ms. Konstantinidou." he greeted in Romanian.

"My evening will be good when we install a damned elevator in this place, Sergiu dear." She said with raised eyebrows and a faint smile "Now come here and help an old, fragile woman out."

 _I've never met a least fragile person in my life._

He didn't say that out loud though, since he was quite sure she would smack him. Instead he nodded.

Adriana Konstantinidou was ninety-two years old, tough, proud and sharp as a knife. A tiny woman with white hair and a pair of piercing green eyes, she was a ballerina in her youth and despite her age, her posture was still straight, her steps sure and strong.

As Bucky took the bags from her hands, she smacked his head.

"That was calling me by that fool's surname again. I'm starting to believe you are doing it to irk me."

"I would never."

He actually did call her by her surname on purpose; but not to irk her. Mrs. Adriana had met her husband during WWII; when she was working as a nurse. He was a Greek soldier she tended to. Bucky could not remember how her husband had found himself to Romania, but he knew that he had been a very insistent on taking his nurse out for a date; to which she would reply "once you get better". The doctors where not expecting him to live. Soon he was send back to Greece, to die home. Two months later, he walked into the hospital "with the most ridiculous smile I've seen, that clown!" and a bouquet of flowers and asked what time he should pick her up for the date.

They got married the next year.

She always nattered about the surname, but she always made a point to teach people how to pronounce it and whenever someone made fun of it, her eyes would gleam so dangerously that Bucky had pitied those foolish enough. She loved her surname, because it reminded her of her husband. He had passed away six years ago, and she still had not forgiven him for having the audacity to die first.

"So how have you been doing, Sergiu?"

He shrugged.

"Did someone cut your tongue, dear?"

"No, ma'am."

She rolled her eyes.

"Oh you are clever. You always tell me what I want to hear, but we both know you never mean it. That's why you've still to meet a girl."

He sighed and ignored the quip. Since she learned he had no parents, Ms. Adriana had basically decided to adopt him, and so had started the age-old bickering. He had given up on protesting a long time ago.

"Oh ignoring me now, are you? Well what to expect! Boys. I made four of those stupid creatures you know, not a single girl. I blame Nickola for that. Four sons, one husband, even the damn cat was male; that is too much testosterone in one house for a single woman to handle. And when I though perhaps the boys would bring nice girls home so I could finally have some people with brains to call family, nooo, three managed to run away in different countries and get married there, so that I've seen my daughters in law only at their weddings, and the youngest brought me a boy, a great boy, I'm not complaining, bless his soul I still don't know what he sees in my son, but I've had enough boys to last me a lifetime, been surrounded with them my entire life, and let me tell you, you boys are a bunch of brainless baboons. What do you say to that?"

He had heard that monologue too many times to actually take her seriously; she loved her sons fiercely. A popular story in the building concerned her dumping a cup of coffee in the face of the drug dealer, because he had made a rude remark about her son and his partner.

"If you say so, ma'am."

"I sense sarcasm. The nerve of you younglings!" she said and smacked him in the hand; the normal one. He always made sure to keep the metal arm on the side of the wall.

She reached her apartment, unlocked her door and nodded for him to get inside.

It was a small apartment, with old wooden furniture and covered in floral patterns and old photographs; a classic image of a sweet grandma's house which was broken only by the grandma herself.

"Just leave these over there." she said, showing the general area of kitchen.

"Tea?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Perhaps not-"

"Nonsense. I shall be very hurt if you deny my offering. Now sit your butt down and keep an old lonely woman some company."

With a ghost of a smile, Bucky obliged. She was rude and brash and she reminded him very much of his mother.

On the table, he saw a platter with some black objects residing inside. He frowned and looked closer. They appeared to be some short of pastries, of no particular shape, that seemed to be both burned and raw at the same time, with black goo here and there.

"I wouldn't touch those if I were you."

"What are they?" he pointed at them as she brought over two cups of tea.

She looked at the platter, and sighed.

"Chocolate chip cookies."

He looked at them in slight horror, wondering if she was expecting him to eat one.

Seeing his expression, a smile cracked her face.

"Don't worry; though tempting, I'm not making you try them. The laughs are not worth poisoning you."

She sat down opposite to him.

"Since you weren't familiar with these" she said, nodding towards the cookies "I suppose then you haven't met your new neighbor yet."

Bucky froze.

Yes, he had spent his days in Romania more pleasantly than he was expecting.

That's why he was worried.

He was alerted to his new neighbor's presence early on; he had heard someone humming through the extremely thin joined wall their apartments shared, but hadn't paid any mind; after all neighbors barely acknowledged each other in this building.

He was quite shocked when she spoke to him; the worst part being that there had been a flash of surprise on her face when she saw him. Her accent also pointed out she was not Romanian.

Had she recognized him? If she had, she was good at hiding it. The few times in the past when someone had recognized him, Bucky had clearly seen fear. This girl was not afraid, or eager to get away. Nervous perhaps; but definitely not scarred.

He wasn't sure what to do yet; he didn't want to leave. While in Bucharest, he had come the closest to being Bucky Barnes again. He liked it here.

 _One nervous girl will not be enough to make me run._

"What does she have to do with those?"

"Oh, so you did meet her?" the old woman smiled.

"In the morning."

"Sweet girl, bless her soul. Absolutely stupid though."

He frowned.

"Why?"

"Well, she made cookies –well, _tried_ to anyway– to offer to her neighbors to say hello and introduce herself."

Bucky blinked in disbelief.

"Which…neighbors…?"

"All of them. The girls on the first floor were amused; the called her in and treated her coffee. The junkies were delighted to have cookies. The dealer I believe shut his door in her face while screaming insults; not that she understood them, her Romanian is truly terrible. I pulled her in here before she went to the creep. The girl has no idea where exactly she came to stay, I fear. First time living alone in a big city, no wonder."

"Where is she from?"

"America."

 _America._

He realized he was clenching his hand harder than he should just in time to save the teacup from shattering.

"Yes, someplace I can't remember. Something about National Parks and very few people. Near the place where the copper was...oh, I'm so forgetful these days…Montana! From a state near Montana."

 _Wyoming?_

He forced a smile.

"Geography was never my strong point, I fear."

"It wasn't mine either, but the States I knew when I was young. I went to America for my honeymoon; to New York, what a glorious time we had." Adriana said and pointed at a picture on top of a dusty piano "There we are, in front of the Empire State Building, ugly thing, but imposing. Those Americans lack finesse, but the know how to be grand, I give them that. "

Bucky looked at the picture and nodded.

"Loved that picture, your neighbor; said what a nice couple we were, showed me a picture of her own in front of that monstrosity. Only other place besides her State she's been to before coming here; her brother works there. Wanted her to stay there for university instead of coming here."

"She's here for studies?" Bucky raised an eyebrow.

 _Who on Earth would chose Bucharest over New York?_

"Ah yes, some post-graduate degree on Folklore or something. No idea what it has to do with her degree though, she's a botanist. Kept babbling something about flowers and symbolism, but I wasn't listening."

 _A botanist from Wyoming coming to Bucharest to study folklore while living in one of the most dangerous districts of the city._

He tried to decide if the absurdity made him consider it more possible or not.

 _Is she a spy?_

He tried to remember her. Medium height; thin and judging from the amount of huffing while she was climbing up the stairs, she didn't have much stamina. Form of someone who had been athletic but had let it go for a while. But if she was a spy, she would have known better than to let surprise show on her face.

 _No,_ he decided, _not likely. I'm being paranoid._

But he had to be. Hydra may have been supposedly eliminated, but whatever was left of them would want him back; he knew that. He would not do them the favor.

But he wasn't leaving Bucharest, not unless he was sure she was a threat.

 _Then again, SHIELD had neighbor spying on Steve._

_Perhaps he decided it was a good idea and sent her to keep an eye on me._

But that was wishful thinking.

 _Facts, Bucky. Learn the facts._

"However did she manage to tell you all of this in broken Romanian?"

Ms. Konstantinidou looked at him with raised eyebrows, looking rather insulted for some reason.

"She didn't. We spoke in English, _of course."_

"You speak English?" he asked, taken aback.

She scoffed.

"Dear, how do you think Nick kept asking me on dates? He didn't speak a word in Romanian. I speak English, French and Russian; I play the piano. I may not seem like it, but I have more knowledge in my little finger than most people living in this building combined."

Bucky raised a hand.

"I made no offence ma'am. I didn't know."

"You would have to try harder to offend me, dear and of course you didn't know, since I never told you. So…" she said, putting her teacup on the table and giving him an inquiring look "What did _you_ think of her?"

Bucky looked at the old lady in confusion.

"What did I think of her?"

The woman sighed and looked at the ceiling as if asking God to bestow her with patience.

"Do I have to spell everything out to you? Chloe, you neighbor! You met her, what do you think of her?"

Bucky shrugged.

"She just said good morning to me. She seemed nice, I suppose."

"Yes, we established that she's _nice_. Nice and naïve and it will get her in trouble if she's not careful. Pretty little things like her are hard to go unnoticed."

He narrowed his eyes.

 _What is she getting at?_

As if she read his mind, she sighed and put her teacup down.

"What I'm saying Sergiu, is that she's a pretty girl who will need someone to look after her."

Bucky couldn't help but smile and snort in exasperation.

 _Unbelievable._

Placing his teacup on the table as well, he smiled to the old woman and got up.

"Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Adriana."

She growled.

"Fine, young man! Keep dodging my advice! Nick didn't listen to me either and see where that got him!"

"Didn't he die of old age, in his sleep?"

"Yes the absolute moron, he made sure even his death was boring!"

Bucky snickered and opened the door.

"Have a nice evening, ma'am."

"Sergiu." she called and he turned to see her staring at him seriously "Joking aside. I want you to keep an eye out for her. I like her."

"I thought she was an idiot?"

"Absolutely. Make sure she doesn't get herself into trouble. For me."

Bucky looked at the old lady, who reminded him of his mother. Perhaps even of how he imagined his sister would be like.

He nodded.

"Good." she said, and Bucky knew she meant 'thank you'.

He lingered at the doorway, smiling.

"What are you smiling at?" she snapped "Off with you now!"

"Of course, Ms. Konstantinidou…" he said seriously and closed the door behind him.

The smile returned on his lips as he heard her muffled voice yelling.

 _"Call me that again and I'll bury you!"_

He climbed the stairs to his floor, eyeing the door next to his before unlocking his door. The shuffling sound alerted him that his new neighbor was home.

He entered his apartment and locked his door; sat on a chair that was about to collapse and remained there in deep thought as the girl's steps echoed through the wall. He listened to her coming and going for a while.

 _Is she pretty?_

He hadn't taken note of that. Bucky Barnes would have never missed such a detail.

He tried to remember her face.

Creamy skin, with freckles sprayed across the bridge of a straight thin nose. Rosy lips, big round brown eyes framed my thick eyelashes, auburn hair; probably died judging from the colour.

She must have been tired from her journey: she had dark circles under her eyes and hair had stuck out of her ponytail like fireworks. But her smile had been bright and her cheeks red.

 _Yes, definitely pretty,_ he decided, _in a girl-next-door kind of way._

He sighed. Was that one more reason for him to be suspicious?

 _"There was a boy…a very strange, enchanted boy…"_

He raised his head. Through the wall, he heard the muffled sound of singing. He didn't know the song.

But then again he knew very few songs.

 _"They say he wondered very far, very far…through land and sea…"_

She had a nice voice, very sweet and melodic, though clearly not trained.

He listened.

 _"A little shy and sad of eye, but very wise was he."_

It was a nice song. He closed his eyes and let a heavy breath escape his lips.

Perhaps she had recognized him. Perhaps she was a spy. Perhaps she was just who she said she was.

 _Whatever the case, I need to keep an eye on her._

***

Song in the chapter:

Nature Boy –Nat King Cole


End file.
